I stare at the Escaflowne intensely. No other guymelefs are coming. It's him against fifteen of Zaibach's finest warriors.
I feel myself smirk. Does he even have a chance?
Another flash lights up the sky.
"ATTACK NOW!" Dilandau orders. One of the Alseideses flanking him fires five claws towards the Dragon. With a swift motion of his blade, the king of Fanelia blocks the claws. They splay out to his sides before they are retracted. The Escaflowne starts running, and before any of us can blink, its tremendous sword slices three Alseideses in half. The guymelefs melt into puddles of blue fire, sucking up with the flames what fragments of foliage lie on the ground. The arm of the Dragon smashes in the control chamber of another one of my companions. The blood spills out in torrents.
My blood, on the other hand, stops cold.
"Damn, he's fast!" Dilandau's voice exclaims as two more go down, "Stealth cloaks!"
Click , goes the lever. The purple cloth surrounds me for a moment of darkness, and the my vision is restored. I am invisible.
The Escaflowne is swiveling around, turning from side to side. It must have expected this- and he's defeated us in invisibility before. We still have to be careful.
He runs again, this time off to my left. Two Alseideses appear as they are sliced in two, and melt, like the others, into flames. By this time my heart is pounding, and my breath is starting to come heavily.
Another Alseides reveals its arm, readying a claw and shaping it into a large, circular shield as the Escaflowne descends on it. Its sword goes right through the control chamber.
That's it, I think. My turn. I ready three claws and jump down from the small cliff to the level of the Escaflowne. Its back it to me as it blocks five claws coming its way. I brace myself as it turns. Its sword lifts above its head.
He can see me...
The sword comes down. In a single moment, a thousand thoughts and as many memories streak through my head. My skin burns. My vision fades.
Dilandau smiles sweetly. A bird flies overhead.
We all go down in the end...
*
"There you go. Now turn around for me."
I giggle as I spin, and the room blurs.
"There now, not so fast," says the voice with a smile. I stop, my hands clasped behind my back, looking up at a woman with shiny black hair and deep violet eyes.
"Aren't you such a lovely young lady," she says with pride in her eyes. A perfumed hand strokes the side of my face.
I take the sides of the skirt in my hands and twirl around, watching the skirt as it billows and sways. The dress is white and pink, with roses sewn along the hem. "What is this for, Mommy?" I ask as I stop twirling and she scoops me up in her arms, "Are we going to a party?"
Mommy laughs, holds me close, and kisses my cheek, "Maybe someday, Cherandle."
"I hope so," I say, "Cause a party is where you get to meet a handsome prince. Like in the stories."
Mommy smiles, "Yes, dear," she sets me down on my feet again, "Like in the stories."
"I wouldn't want a prince if he didn't know how to swordfight," I say, smoothing out the front of my skirt and looking back up at Mommy, "Knights always know how to swordfight." I dance around, waving my hand which holds an imaginary sword, "Clang! Clang! Swish! Whish! Whoosh!"
Mommy clasps my closed fist in her hand and kneels down by me. She begins to pull the dress off of me, "Now, where did you learn to do something like that?"
"Oh, Papa is teaching me a lot."
"Mm-hmm..." she says, looking at the floor. She hands me my regular clothes.
I pull on my shirt, "Yeah, and... and yesterday, he made a lunge at me, faster than he did before, and I blocked it! He said if... That I'm a fast learner, and if I get better he'll give me my own sword! And-"
"Y'know what?" Mommy's hands lie on my arms and she grins, "What if tomorrow I go and buy you a nice pair of gloves to go with the dress? Would you like that?" She takes my hands in hers.
"Sure." I smile.
She kisses me on the cheek, "Good." She smiles. "I love you, Cherandle."
I throw my arms around her. "You too, Mommy..."
*
"...Just tilt your hands a bit there... Good."
I swing the sword down and bring it up to the next position of the sequence.
"The sword is your ally. It will not betray you if you trust it."
Third position.
"Good."
Fourth.
"Very good."
And... fifth.
"Excellent. You picked that one up quickly, Cherandle."
I smile, and sheath my sword- I no longer have to lift my hand over my head in order to do this. I now only have to reach up to my forehead.
"And you're growing up fast," Father notes, "I daresay you're going to be ready to go on your own in a few years."
I gasp and look up at him, "Really?"
He smiles and chucks my chin, "I never lie to those I trust. Especially not my favorite daughter."
I playfully smack his hand away. "I'm your only daughter."
"Hmm," he comments with a smirk. He turns towards the horizon. The sun is setting along the mountains.
"We should get back," Father says, as a light breeze ruffles our hair. We begin to walk, and he takes my hand. "It's always good to learn how to fight on natural terrain," he says.
"How come?"
"Well, you never know where you're going to have to battle," says Father, "Not that you should always be looking for a fight... But in times such as war, who knows just where you're going to have to use your skills?"
"Oh... I get it."
When we get home, Mother will be crying at the table. Father will send me to my room, and sit down with her for a "serious talk".
There will be no more lessons after today. But Father will give me his book, and tell me to keep practicing on my own. "I cannot teach you anymore," he will say, "So you will have to teach yourself."
But for now, Father holds my hand, my sword swings at my side, and the moons rise before us.
Life is perfect.
*
I'm walking... Where? I feel as if I don't exist. I have nothing. I AM nothing. Soft shoes tap on a surface, but there is no reverberated sound. It is muffled, almost absorbed, by an empty, white space.
I remember walking before... a long walk. And then; falling. The loss of something more than that which had already been taken away.
I sink to my knees. And for the first time become aware of the dress. A white dress. Simple and plain.
I stare at the palms of my hands.
Am I dead?
Looking around, I find that I am surrounded by nothing. White space.
Empty, white space.
But... Where has everything gone?
What should be my heart starts racing. Dead?... No, no, no, no, no, no... Wait. Wait, calm down. What's the last thing I remember?
Walking... But... Before that... I was with Father. I was ten years old... And before that... five. With Mother in my room. A new dress.
But how can that be? A person doesn't go from five to ten so quickly...
A sword the feeling of coldness a green bird smile smoke and blackness warmth and darkness...
Oh, Gods...
I can feel that I don't truly have a body anymore- only a soul that I perceive as a body, that I see and yet don't see, sense and don't sense, fragments of a dead mind hovering over what is left of my being. The thought of this makes my soul shiver, and so my body as I see it.
But all this leads of another question... Where am I? I stand up slowly.
The answer is, simply... Nowhere. Although I feel a firmness under my feet, there is no visible surface beneath me, it's as white and pure as my dress and the space around me and above me, which is so dimensionless it could be infinite or just small enough to contain me. The space is illuminated by an unthinkable amount of light, an endless, unwavering stream that somehow casts no shadow. Which, I suppose now, should make sense: I no longer have anything to cast a shadow WITH.
But now that I have realized what I am and where I am, more questions spring to mind. How long have I been dead? Why, exactly, did I come here? Does Father know what has happened? What do I do now? What has become of my fellow Dragon Slayers? Where is Gatti? Kestrel? Viole?
Where is Dilandau?
Oh God Oh God Oh God How many went down before me? How many left once I had fallen? How many left now? Did Dilandau survive? If not, is he here, somewhere? If so, he must be more tortured than ever. I know him too well to hope for what is left of his sanity. His darkness hour yet and I am not there with him because I'm... I'm...
My knees- or what I sense as my knees- collapse again under me. My imaginary chest heaves and tears that are no real soak my nonexistent cheeks.
The last time I was with him... It wasn't right, it didn't feel as right as it should have. Not after I confessed... Maybe I shouldn't have. I don't think Dilandau understands love; why else would act so strangely after hearing it? Very strange... Like a battle with something only he could see. Something I couldn't sense...
Does it even matter to dwell on the life I have known, now that it is gone forever?
Dilandau!, my soul cries, and so my voice as well. Whatever my soul feels, my voice and body express.
"Daggers and knives," I say through a weeping voice as my arms fold under and I'm on the surface in a little ball, "Daggers and knives and burning." My hands becomes fists. Is this hell? It very well may be.
"Dilandau..."
*
Time has become nothing.
I lie on the surface of my prison, staring up into emptiness. I am so lonely and empty. I have given up running. I have given up calling out names. I have given up everything except praying.
And I have so accepted the fact that I am nothing more than a soul that every thought is spoken.
"Please, Gods, please. My life wasn't finished yet. I wasn't done. I wanted to make him understand. He must be so alone. And my Father must be devastated.
"I was fighting for my country. I was fighting for my love. Is that I crime? I want one more day to make everything right. One last day. Please." I close my eyes.
"Please..."
Nothing. I open my eyes. Black is exchanged for white emptiness. I sigh air that does not surround me.
I can pray forever if I have to.
*
"It wasn't pure. It wasn't right. And it's all that occupies my thoughts. Where is he now, and what has become of the war? How long has it been? Does it even matter anymore...?
"No. I must keep praying. It matters. It matters until it happens. One last day.
"You know I hate this dress? I hate it. And what of my uniform? Rotting away with my body, in that field. Or burned away. Gone forever. Destroyed by the Dragon.
"I hate the Dragon. I hate him more than I can say. I can hate him more than I ever hated anyone. I never really hated anyone. Not even Mother. She thought she was trying to help me. She loved me. The Dragon killed me. He destroyed me world, and the world of those I love.
"But Gods, I don't want revenge. There are other things I'd rather take care of if I had another day. The Dragon fought for his country, just as I fought for mine. As much as I hate him now, I can't deny, nor change that at all..."
I'm kneeling, and I lean forwards on my hands and bow my head.
"I'm tired of saying please."
Suddenly, I look up. Yellow... a color I haven't seen for a long time. Who knows how long. A pale, yellow light.
"What--?" I look around. A shaft of pale, yellow light coming from somewhere above me. I stand, looking up.
Suddenly, I feel as if I'm floating. I can't tell if I actually am, for the realm of death has no true surface. I feel myself travelling up, up, up. A tingling sensation, like I'm dissolving.
Blackness again.
And eventually, everything will be reborn...
A rush of sound, a shot of pain, a feeling of both freedom and entrapment. I open my eyes onto think forest, gulping into my empty lungs my first breath of air in such a long, long time.
I lie there for a while, feeling the grass underneath me, the air in my lungs, the light that seeps through the trees onto my face. I am still wearing the dress, and the slip-on shoes.
But I am reborn.
I stand, and take a look around. Where am I now? To one side lies more forest. To the other, tents.
Tents?
My attention is taken my by the sudden emergence of a solder from the forest. He grabs ahold of my wrist.
"You, girl! What are you doing here?"
Shouts come from the direction of the tents. Another soldier appears and grabs my other arm as I am dragged into the unwooded area near the tents. One solder throws me down, forcing me to hold onto the wrist of the other, "Why are you here?"
I make up what I can: "I was lost in the forest... I saw this camp, and I thought I might-"
The soldier who dropped me grabs my wrist again, "Well, you made a mistake coming to the Zaibach camp for help," he says with a grin in his voice, "Where are you from? Asturia?" I cry in pain as his grip tightens.
"Stop!"
We all look. A tall, broad-shouldered man with purple hair and green eyes has emerged from a nearby tent.
"Get your hands off my daughter," he growls.
I feel myself smirk. Does he even have a chance?
Another flash lights up the sky.
"ATTACK NOW!" Dilandau orders. One of the Alseideses flanking him fires five claws towards the Dragon. With a swift motion of his blade, the king of Fanelia blocks the claws. They splay out to his sides before they are retracted. The Escaflowne starts running, and before any of us can blink, its tremendous sword slices three Alseideses in half. The guymelefs melt into puddles of blue fire, sucking up with the flames what fragments of foliage lie on the ground. The arm of the Dragon smashes in the control chamber of another one of my companions. The blood spills out in torrents.
My blood, on the other hand, stops cold.
"Damn, he's fast!" Dilandau's voice exclaims as two more go down, "Stealth cloaks!"
Click , goes the lever. The purple cloth surrounds me for a moment of darkness, and the my vision is restored. I am invisible.
The Escaflowne is swiveling around, turning from side to side. It must have expected this- and he's defeated us in invisibility before. We still have to be careful.
He runs again, this time off to my left. Two Alseideses appear as they are sliced in two, and melt, like the others, into flames. By this time my heart is pounding, and my breath is starting to come heavily.
Another Alseides reveals its arm, readying a claw and shaping it into a large, circular shield as the Escaflowne descends on it. Its sword goes right through the control chamber.
That's it, I think. My turn. I ready three claws and jump down from the small cliff to the level of the Escaflowne. Its back it to me as it blocks five claws coming its way. I brace myself as it turns. Its sword lifts above its head.
He can see me...
The sword comes down. In a single moment, a thousand thoughts and as many memories streak through my head. My skin burns. My vision fades.
Dilandau smiles sweetly. A bird flies overhead.
We all go down in the end...
*
"There you go. Now turn around for me."
I giggle as I spin, and the room blurs.
"There now, not so fast," says the voice with a smile. I stop, my hands clasped behind my back, looking up at a woman with shiny black hair and deep violet eyes.
"Aren't you such a lovely young lady," she says with pride in her eyes. A perfumed hand strokes the side of my face.
I take the sides of the skirt in my hands and twirl around, watching the skirt as it billows and sways. The dress is white and pink, with roses sewn along the hem. "What is this for, Mommy?" I ask as I stop twirling and she scoops me up in her arms, "Are we going to a party?"
Mommy laughs, holds me close, and kisses my cheek, "Maybe someday, Cherandle."
"I hope so," I say, "Cause a party is where you get to meet a handsome prince. Like in the stories."
Mommy smiles, "Yes, dear," she sets me down on my feet again, "Like in the stories."
"I wouldn't want a prince if he didn't know how to swordfight," I say, smoothing out the front of my skirt and looking back up at Mommy, "Knights always know how to swordfight." I dance around, waving my hand which holds an imaginary sword, "Clang! Clang! Swish! Whish! Whoosh!"
Mommy clasps my closed fist in her hand and kneels down by me. She begins to pull the dress off of me, "Now, where did you learn to do something like that?"
"Oh, Papa is teaching me a lot."
"Mm-hmm..." she says, looking at the floor. She hands me my regular clothes.
I pull on my shirt, "Yeah, and... and yesterday, he made a lunge at me, faster than he did before, and I blocked it! He said if... That I'm a fast learner, and if I get better he'll give me my own sword! And-"
"Y'know what?" Mommy's hands lie on my arms and she grins, "What if tomorrow I go and buy you a nice pair of gloves to go with the dress? Would you like that?" She takes my hands in hers.
"Sure." I smile.
She kisses me on the cheek, "Good." She smiles. "I love you, Cherandle."
I throw my arms around her. "You too, Mommy..."
*
"...Just tilt your hands a bit there... Good."
I swing the sword down and bring it up to the next position of the sequence.
"The sword is your ally. It will not betray you if you trust it."
Third position.
"Good."
Fourth.
"Very good."
And... fifth.
"Excellent. You picked that one up quickly, Cherandle."
I smile, and sheath my sword- I no longer have to lift my hand over my head in order to do this. I now only have to reach up to my forehead.
"And you're growing up fast," Father notes, "I daresay you're going to be ready to go on your own in a few years."
I gasp and look up at him, "Really?"
He smiles and chucks my chin, "I never lie to those I trust. Especially not my favorite daughter."
I playfully smack his hand away. "I'm your only daughter."
"Hmm," he comments with a smirk. He turns towards the horizon. The sun is setting along the mountains.
"We should get back," Father says, as a light breeze ruffles our hair. We begin to walk, and he takes my hand. "It's always good to learn how to fight on natural terrain," he says.
"How come?"
"Well, you never know where you're going to have to battle," says Father, "Not that you should always be looking for a fight... But in times such as war, who knows just where you're going to have to use your skills?"
"Oh... I get it."
When we get home, Mother will be crying at the table. Father will send me to my room, and sit down with her for a "serious talk".
There will be no more lessons after today. But Father will give me his book, and tell me to keep practicing on my own. "I cannot teach you anymore," he will say, "So you will have to teach yourself."
But for now, Father holds my hand, my sword swings at my side, and the moons rise before us.
Life is perfect.
*
I'm walking... Where? I feel as if I don't exist. I have nothing. I AM nothing. Soft shoes tap on a surface, but there is no reverberated sound. It is muffled, almost absorbed, by an empty, white space.
I remember walking before... a long walk. And then; falling. The loss of something more than that which had already been taken away.
I sink to my knees. And for the first time become aware of the dress. A white dress. Simple and plain.
I stare at the palms of my hands.
Am I dead?
Looking around, I find that I am surrounded by nothing. White space.
Empty, white space.
But... Where has everything gone?
What should be my heart starts racing. Dead?... No, no, no, no, no, no... Wait. Wait, calm down. What's the last thing I remember?
Walking... But... Before that... I was with Father. I was ten years old... And before that... five. With Mother in my room. A new dress.
But how can that be? A person doesn't go from five to ten so quickly...
A sword the feeling of coldness a green bird smile smoke and blackness warmth and darkness...
Oh, Gods...
I can feel that I don't truly have a body anymore- only a soul that I perceive as a body, that I see and yet don't see, sense and don't sense, fragments of a dead mind hovering over what is left of my being. The thought of this makes my soul shiver, and so my body as I see it.
But all this leads of another question... Where am I? I stand up slowly.
The answer is, simply... Nowhere. Although I feel a firmness under my feet, there is no visible surface beneath me, it's as white and pure as my dress and the space around me and above me, which is so dimensionless it could be infinite or just small enough to contain me. The space is illuminated by an unthinkable amount of light, an endless, unwavering stream that somehow casts no shadow. Which, I suppose now, should make sense: I no longer have anything to cast a shadow WITH.
But now that I have realized what I am and where I am, more questions spring to mind. How long have I been dead? Why, exactly, did I come here? Does Father know what has happened? What do I do now? What has become of my fellow Dragon Slayers? Where is Gatti? Kestrel? Viole?
Where is Dilandau?
Oh God Oh God Oh God How many went down before me? How many left once I had fallen? How many left now? Did Dilandau survive? If not, is he here, somewhere? If so, he must be more tortured than ever. I know him too well to hope for what is left of his sanity. His darkness hour yet and I am not there with him because I'm... I'm...
My knees- or what I sense as my knees- collapse again under me. My imaginary chest heaves and tears that are no real soak my nonexistent cheeks.
The last time I was with him... It wasn't right, it didn't feel as right as it should have. Not after I confessed... Maybe I shouldn't have. I don't think Dilandau understands love; why else would act so strangely after hearing it? Very strange... Like a battle with something only he could see. Something I couldn't sense...
Does it even matter to dwell on the life I have known, now that it is gone forever?
Dilandau!, my soul cries, and so my voice as well. Whatever my soul feels, my voice and body express.
"Daggers and knives," I say through a weeping voice as my arms fold under and I'm on the surface in a little ball, "Daggers and knives and burning." My hands becomes fists. Is this hell? It very well may be.
"Dilandau..."
*
Time has become nothing.
I lie on the surface of my prison, staring up into emptiness. I am so lonely and empty. I have given up running. I have given up calling out names. I have given up everything except praying.
And I have so accepted the fact that I am nothing more than a soul that every thought is spoken.
"Please, Gods, please. My life wasn't finished yet. I wasn't done. I wanted to make him understand. He must be so alone. And my Father must be devastated.
"I was fighting for my country. I was fighting for my love. Is that I crime? I want one more day to make everything right. One last day. Please." I close my eyes.
"Please..."
Nothing. I open my eyes. Black is exchanged for white emptiness. I sigh air that does not surround me.
I can pray forever if I have to.
*
"It wasn't pure. It wasn't right. And it's all that occupies my thoughts. Where is he now, and what has become of the war? How long has it been? Does it even matter anymore...?
"No. I must keep praying. It matters. It matters until it happens. One last day.
"You know I hate this dress? I hate it. And what of my uniform? Rotting away with my body, in that field. Or burned away. Gone forever. Destroyed by the Dragon.
"I hate the Dragon. I hate him more than I can say. I can hate him more than I ever hated anyone. I never really hated anyone. Not even Mother. She thought she was trying to help me. She loved me. The Dragon killed me. He destroyed me world, and the world of those I love.
"But Gods, I don't want revenge. There are other things I'd rather take care of if I had another day. The Dragon fought for his country, just as I fought for mine. As much as I hate him now, I can't deny, nor change that at all..."
I'm kneeling, and I lean forwards on my hands and bow my head.
"I'm tired of saying please."
Suddenly, I look up. Yellow... a color I haven't seen for a long time. Who knows how long. A pale, yellow light.
"What--?" I look around. A shaft of pale, yellow light coming from somewhere above me. I stand, looking up.
Suddenly, I feel as if I'm floating. I can't tell if I actually am, for the realm of death has no true surface. I feel myself travelling up, up, up. A tingling sensation, like I'm dissolving.
Blackness again.
And eventually, everything will be reborn...
A rush of sound, a shot of pain, a feeling of both freedom and entrapment. I open my eyes onto think forest, gulping into my empty lungs my first breath of air in such a long, long time.
I lie there for a while, feeling the grass underneath me, the air in my lungs, the light that seeps through the trees onto my face. I am still wearing the dress, and the slip-on shoes.
But I am reborn.
I stand, and take a look around. Where am I now? To one side lies more forest. To the other, tents.
Tents?
My attention is taken my by the sudden emergence of a solder from the forest. He grabs ahold of my wrist.
"You, girl! What are you doing here?"
Shouts come from the direction of the tents. Another soldier appears and grabs my other arm as I am dragged into the unwooded area near the tents. One solder throws me down, forcing me to hold onto the wrist of the other, "Why are you here?"
I make up what I can: "I was lost in the forest... I saw this camp, and I thought I might-"
The soldier who dropped me grabs my wrist again, "Well, you made a mistake coming to the Zaibach camp for help," he says with a grin in his voice, "Where are you from? Asturia?" I cry in pain as his grip tightens.
"Stop!"
We all look. A tall, broad-shouldered man with purple hair and green eyes has emerged from a nearby tent.
"Get your hands off my daughter," he growls.
